Storm Child
by SoundedSummer
Summary: Xander is more than the Zeppo, but no one notices, except a certain chaos god. A nudge, a spell, and a Halloween that no one will soon forgets leads to thundering changes, and Fury wonders if he should finally retire. Slash, violence, and horrible puns abound. SLASH
1. Chapter 1

bTitle: Storm Child

Rating: T-MA

Pairings: ?/Xander, Avengers/Various, Scoobys/Various

Warnings: SLASH! AU, Violence, language, Tony Stark being...Tony Stark, alcohol use, other warnings will be named as they become applicable. Mentions of Trigger warnings, specifically Rape and Child Abuse.

Feedback: Yes, please. Constructive Criticism is adored. Flames will be laughed at.

Disclaimer-I own nothing. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied, and no profit of any kind other than enjoyment is being made on this work of fiction. All copyrighted material remains the sole property of their copyright holders. Avengers and all related characters belong to Marvel Comics, Joss whedon and other copyright holders, while Buffy and all related characters belong to FOX and Joss Whedon. Neither of which are me./b

**AN-A response to the challenge from Calileane. I just couldn't pass it up! Cross posted at AO3. This is set in season 2, after Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered. Spoilers for season one, two, and future episodes. Canon compliant for the most part. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1: Prologue<strong>

Xander Harris made his way slowly down the deserted streets of Sunnydale, curling his arms tightly around his waist. He knew it was dangerous to be out, alone after dark, especially with the bullseye on his back that came from being friends with the Vampire Slayer, but the teenager honestly couldn't care less at the moment.

Not when the weight of his sins was heavier than any thought of death ever could be. Becoming fang bait would be what he deserved. The Spell had been such a stupid idea, probably the biggest, most idiot Xander thing he could have possibly done, out of a lifetime of big idiotic things so that was saying a lot.

Everything had seemed alright at first. Buffy had forgiven him, Cordelia had come back to him, alls well that ends well. But that didn't last. Willow still wouldn't speak to him, even weeks later, and Cordelia had left him soon after the Sadie Hawkins dance. She couldn't stand to look at him anymore, knowing the depths that he would sink to to make sure that she loved him. Even if his first time hadn't been successful, she didn't want to give him a chance to try again.

He couldn't find it in himself to blame her. It had all seemed like such a good idea at first, the perfect way to get Cordelia back for the pain that he was going through. And then it had all gone wrong. Sunnydale syndrome had failed him for the first time, the women in town had remembered what he had done.

Oh, they didn't remember anything about the spell, or Buffy turning into a rat, but they did remember wanting him ahead of everything else, almost killing each other to get to him. The rumours around school pointed at him drugging every girl in the school.

He heard the whispers, he caught the dirty looks that everyone gave him, felt it every time a girl in school stepped away from him so there was no chance they would come into contact.

Rapist.

He was the school leper, only worse.

Giles told him it would blow over, that there were consequences to his use of black magic and he would just have to ride it through until it was over. Xander got the feeling that the Watcher thought he deserved everything that he got. Buffy would just shrug and pat him on the shoulder, not the most encouraging of motions but at least she didn't shy away from him like he was going to jump her at any moment.

It was a small comfort but he would take any where it was offered.

Xander turned into the alley between Magnolia Drive and Stone Street, two blocks from his parents house, when he heard footsteps slowly coming up behind him. They were deliberate, echoing against the buildings around him, and Xander felt his heart begin to pound. He was miserable, and he deserved to die, but he was human. He didn't want to die. He sped up, walking as fast as he could without making it obvious he was doing his best to get away, but the footsteps easily kept pace with him. Every instinct in him told him to turn, to face who was going to kill him like a man instead of running like a coward, but Xander was well aware of his inadequacies. The only reason he had stayed alive this long was because Buffy was a kick ass Slayer, Xander could barely keep himself on his own two feet during a fight.

Especially lately.

"Don't try to run, Harris. You've had this coming for weeks." Xander recognized the voice and closed his eyes. Yeah, that didn't make him want to slow down, like at all. He broke into a full fledged run, deciding that he may actually have a chance of outrunning Larry. At least he only had football strength on his side instead of supernatural strength, and football strength was something that Xander had been fighting against all his life.

'Turn and fight. You are more than a match for these pathetic mortals.'/i Xander stuttered in his movement for a few seconds, fear washing over him as he heard the voice. A voice in his mind, not again. He didn't have time to focus on it, on possibly being possessed or insane, or whatever else the Hellmouth would throw at him. He had to focus on keeping his insides where they belonged, on his inside.

He had almost made it to the street, and a semblance of safety, when two bodies blocked the exit from the alley. Xander groaned and came to a stop, fighting the stitch in his side and waiting for Larry to catch up with him, waiting for his punishment. Three on one, was not good odds, and he only hoped that he was left at least breathing at the end of this. Because breathing was good.

* * *

><p>Loki ground his teeth, bracing himself, and slammed his head back against the wall behind him. He took pleasure in the scurrying of the guards as they tried to decide what to do about his apparent self harm, the only pleasure that was truly left to him now.<p>

If he was any normal prisoner, the guards would gleefully watch him bash his own brains into the wall, just one more honorless prisoner no longer breathing their precious air.

Unfortunately for them, he wasn't a normal prisoner. The Allfather had made it very clear that he still considered Loki both his son and a Prince of Asgard, no matter how much Loki protested that he shared no blood and no connection with the Allfather. He would not be well pleased by their inaction, and they knew it. Fear, however, kept them in their place. No one wished to go near him, in case he infected them with his Jotun evil.

Thor, stupid, loyal to a fault Thor, saved the day as always.

And just like always, he had no idea he was doing it.

He stormed into the small prison block where Loki was being held, cloak streaming behind him and Mjolnir slung into its war holster, every inch the Warrior Prince. Thor gave the guards a dismissive look, sending them scurrying gratefully from the room without a word having to be spoken.

Golden Retriever he may be, but he was still the Crown Prince of Asgard, and that commanded respect. Loki bared his teeth. Even when he held his place beside Thor, he had never been able to command respect, he had always had to fight and claw for every inch of respect he had been able to gain. It was just another difference between the two, another point of contention.

"Brother, will you not reconsider?" Thor's voice was pleading, and Loki sneered at him, as always. Every day, without fail, for the last three months Thor had been barging into his prison and begging him to reconsider the choice he had made, to break the vow he had given, and Loki refused, without fail. He knew what awaited him, at the end of the grace period Odin had allowed him to think about his choices, he knew the torture that would be his for the rest of eternity, but he wouldn't back down. He could not.

He had made his bed, and for the first time in his life, he was going to have to lie in it. He was at peace with the thought, for once not fighting his fate. He had been fighting his fate for as long as he could remember, and now that he was accepting without a fight, it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"No. I gave my word, would you have me break it now, and forswear all honor I may have left?" Thor flinched at the slur, but Loki took less pleasure in that than he would have at one time. The sight of Thor always made his mind wander away to the small...pet project that he had left brewing on Earth, the only project that may yet bear fruit. It was unlikely, but he couldn't stop himself. It was all he had left.

A frown crossed his face at the thought before it smoothed away as if it had never been there, his magic snapping and snarling within him to be let loose, to exact revenge. He couldn't let himself give into those baser instincts. Nothing could be done this late in the game, he had made his final moves and he could only hope the enemy fell into his trap.

But maybe, maybe he could help the idea along just a little, just a nudge. Loki eyed his brother carefully and a plan beginning to slowly form in his mind.

He had planned on keeping this knowledge to himself until the last possible moment, springing it on the other god when it was most advantageous, and yes hilarious, for himself to do so.

But this...this may be an even better plan.

Loki motioned his brother close, his movements limited by the lengths of chain that were wrapped around his body, and Thor obliged him, putting his ear near the god of mischiefs mouth. Loki whispered his knowledge into his ear, and moved his head back, waiting with anticipation for what he knew was coming.

And Thor did not disappoint him. Loki watched the first the looks of shock pass over that open face, fear crossing it briefly before the Golden Prince settled on thunderous rage. Thunder boomed in the sky above Asgard, levels above their heads, and Loki couldn't help but laugh out loud as the God of Thunder raced out of the dungeon and towards his precious Midgard without another word.

He couldn't have planned this better himself. And as an extra blessing, Janus wouldn't be expecting it.

He ignored the voice in the back of his mind, a voice that sounded too much like his mother for his peace of mind, that said he was doing this for the child, more than anyone else.

But, then, Loki had always been best at fooling himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry this one has taken so long, it has been sitting on my desktop and I just haven't gotten around to uploading it. Thank you for all the reviews and follows. **

**Disclaimer-I own nothing. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied. **

* * *

><p>Director Nick Fury was the overworked head of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistic Department, S.H.I.E.L.D. And he was enjoying his last remaining pleasure on Earth, a good gunslinger novel and a cup of carefully stolen hot chocolate, when thunder shook the compound and the drink in his hand went spilling over the book lying open on the desk in front of him. It stained the already yellowed pages, one of his favorite novels probably ruined beyond all recovery, and he hated braving the bookstore.<p>

"Motherfucker!" Fury grabbed for a napkin, dabbing at the book and hoping he could get the worst of the liquid off the pages. "This shit will never come out!" Muttering to himself he put the cup as far away from his book as possible, glaring with his good eye at the mess in front of him. The drink was spreading across the desk at an alarming rate, and he didn't even attempt to save the paperwork that was soaking it in. It made him doubly glad that he hadn't taken Stark up on his 'offer' of the latest StarkPad.

The Engineer wouldn't survive his mocking if Fury had to ask for another, and you could bet on that.

Running feet outside his door, while not all that uncommon when faced with a planetary emergency or Hulk sized temper tantrum, was very surprising in response to a thunderstorm. After all their sometime resident Thunder God was still in Asgard dealing with the screwball Loki, and they were on the ground at the moment. No danger from lightning or any of the other million and one things that would go wrong during a storm in the air.

Why would a thunderstorm have everyone going nuts now? Fury reached for the gun that he kept on his side at all time as the door was slammed open, only marginally relaxing when Deputy Director Hill burst in and started talking almost faster than Tony Stark on a bender. She was out of breath and her face flushed, eyes wide.

"Director!" She fought to control her breathing, and Fury tightened his grip on the gun in his hands. This couldn't be good. "Thor! He's back, and he really wants to speak with you..."

The door behind her opened again and Fury found himself pointing his weapon at the God of Thunder, an Avenger...and one very, very angry motherfucker. Fury doubted his glock was going to do any amount of damage to the God at all, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to go down fighting.

"Director Fury." The roll of thunder was in the Gods voice, and he fixed Fury with eyes that had seen centuries pass by. He had never looked so other worldly, so Other, than he did in that moment. The Director would admit to no one that he was feeling much like the Ant this beings brother had once compared him to.

"...wants to see you." Hill finished, stepping back as both men fixed her with a stare. She blanched, the normally hard assed Agent backing slowly towards the door, with the aim of getting out of there as quickly as she possibly could. Maria knew when she was ridiculously outmatched, and she was going to live to fight another day, if she had anything to say about it.

She didn't know what it was that had set Thor off, but she didn't want to be around to see the aftermath. But if she happened to wander by the surveillance room and watch from afar as someone proceeded to let the Director have it...well, who could really blame her?

"Why don't you sit down." Thor shook his head, crossing his arms over his barrel chest, left had a tad bit too close to Mjolner for Fury's comfort. The Head of S.H.E. . could almost see the lightening flowing over the metal. He was certain if he had hair it would be standing on end from the current in the room.

"I will remain standing. I wish to know where he is." Fury blinked, wanting to rub his head. "He has been kept from me this long but no longer."

"Kept who? Speak English!" He tried to remember if he had any antacids in his desk from the last time Stark wandered in and reset all the security codes, leading to an entire reset of the Helicarrier, but couldn't remember. And he certainly wasn't going to move the gun away from Thor in order to check.

"My Son, director. Where is my son?" Thunder boomed overhead and somewhere high above ground, lightning struck a tree, impending destruction written all over the skies. If Thor was not satisfied, the entire Earth would suffer his wrath.

Fury groaned, bile climbing up his throat at the stress he knew he was going to have heaped on his shoulders before this was all over.

"Do you know anything about him? Wherever the fuck you got your information better have more than 'you have a son' or we'll never find...whoever he is."

There weren't enough antacids on the planet for this problem.

* * *

><p><strong>*Three Days Later* <strong>

Xander kept his head down as he walked down the street towards his house, both to avoid human contact and to keep the few people that may still try to engage him from seeing the dark bags under his eyes. He had finally healed from Larry's beating, enough that he could go to school without (any) awkward questions being asked about how he was injured.

He had barely slept since dragging himself back into his parents house, a drunken trail of blood and dirt leading to his stoop, memories of what he had almost done, what he could have done if the spell had gone any longer swirling around and around in his head.

Days laying prone in his bed as he tried to keep himself together giving him more and more time to dwell on what could have happened from his little revenge. He could have been (would have been) the worst rapist in Sunnydale history. Xander leaned over a bush to empty his stomach at the thought, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grimacing at the taste as he pulled himself back to his feet.

First thing he was going to do when he got home was brush until his teeth fell out. There was nothing worse than the aftertaste from being sick.

"Hey Xander! Wait up man!" Xander looked up briefly, met Devon's eyes with a grimace, and stared back at the ground, hoisting his backpack higher up on his shoulders. "Aren't you coming to the show?"

Devon was as hyper as he always was before a show, and normally Xander would have smiled back and joined in the fun, ribbing the other teen for anything that he could think of.

He wasn't normal Xander, not anymore.

"I Can't. I have to catch up on homework." He said nothing else, speeding up and turning down the ally that stretched between Magnolia and Stone, leaving the Vocalist staring after him dismayed.

'All I need now is a Vampire, and my week from hell will be complete. I'm surprised Dead boy hasn't shown up to rub my face in how much of waste of space I am.' Xander knew that he was jinxing himself, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He avoided looking at the blood stains his encounter with Larry had left.

It was no less than he deserved, to be taken out by a monster like Angelus. At least the demon was up front with his thirst for death and destruction and wanting to ruin lives. Xander didn't even know the truth of himself, of how far he would go to destroy those around him.

"Hey! Harris!" Xander turned at the sound of his name, the voice sending his blood pounding quicker and harder in his chest. He was faster than he thought he would be, given the fact that each and every move he made pulled at injuries caused by the teen standing in front of him.

Hadn't Larry already taken his revenge? Was he determined to kill Xander himself? He couldn't take another beating, he had barely survived the first one.

Xander kept moving as the first blow hit. He wasn't quick enough to get away from it completely, but it was only a glancing blow, merely bruising a few new ribs rather than breaking them.

Larry cursed as he stared at the younger teen, a black look on his face, and cracked his knuckles like a B movie goon, readying himself for another attack. There was something...dark in his face, a look that told Xander he was not going to get away from this one alive unless a miracle occurred in the next five seconds.

Xander put his hands up, his backpack falling somewhere behind him, and prepared himself as much as he was able. /p

"Larry, man, lets just walk away. You don't want to smear me across the asphalt, again, and dying today is not on my bucket list, so lets just..." Larry swung again with a growl of rage and Xander ducked, yelping as he moved right into the path of the jock's path, grabbing at his ribs as the meaty hand connected, again.. "Or we can do the tried and true. That works too." That time, he felt something give a sickening snap, and nausea filled him at the boiling pain running through his veins.

Oww.

He ducked again as Larry gave a roar of rage, coming towards him like a bat out of hell. Xander had gotten quicker (and better at ducking) since he started training with Buffy, but he had never been good enough to go toe to toe with Larry. He knew that.

And this rage...this was something else. Larry had been mad the last time they had an encounter, but this...this was something completely different.

Even when he was a literal pirate he was more in control.

"You son of a bitch Harris, I am going to make you pay for what you did to Laura. I never should have let you walk away, I should have ended you in this alley the last time I had your pathetic ass here." The next hit caught Xander across the jaw, and he stumbled back as stars exploded in his vision.

That hurt. Every injury that littered his body screamed at him as he stumbled to the left, slicing his knee open on a piece of glass as he went down into the dirt, cutting his last good pair of jeans in the process. His ribs protested his every move, but he kept dodging, hoping that someone would hear the scuffle before Larry any more permanent damage.

The Permanent damage that ended with him lying in the morgue.

"I didn't do anything to Laura!" He nearly screamed it, gasping for air as the jock pummeled him in the gut, bending him over as he fought to relearn how to breathe. Larry kneed him while he was prone and hot pain radiated through his side as another rib snapped at the blow.

"You tried to rape her you bastard! If it wasn't for Cordy you would have!" Xander's world went black as the final hit connected with his temple, Larry pulling nothing of the punch, leaving him unconscious in the alleyway as storm clouds began gathering overhead, the heavens opening and letting loose a flood.

Larry left him without a second glance, not caring that he was most likely leaving the other teen to die alone in a dirty alley, tugging his jacket up over his head as the raindrops fell harder and faster.

It wasn't until later that Larry began to wonder, as he faced down a government agent across a metal table, why Harris had never so much as raised a hand to fight back.

* * *

><p>"You swore he would be here." Thor paced the floor of the small dwelling, throwing glances at the mortals huddled together on the unsightly couch, guarded by two SHIELD agents and Tony Stark. "Do you have no honor, that your word means so little?"<p>

Thor had seen many different types of mortals during his year on Midgard, both honorable and horrid, he had never come across anyone like the two he found himself depending on. He couldn't find the words in the mortal tongue, even with the AllSpeak, to describe his disdain for them.

"I don't know where the bastard is! He was supposed to be home two hours ago!" The male, Anthony Harris, growled out, ignoring the cold look the billionaire was giving and barely shivering at Thor's glare. "He's probably fucking around with those two sluts he hangs around with."

Anthony Harris, Thor decided, was either exceedingly brave, or exceedingly ignorant. Thor fought the urge to teach him a lesson with Mjolnir, gripping the handle of his constant companion tightly for a few seconds before forcing himself to let go.

He just hoped his son, his son, hadn't been ruined beyond repair by these miserable examples of humanity. And if they hurt him, if they had injured so much as a hair on his head, he would ensure they would live to regret each and every injury.

The Thunder God did not understand magic much of the time, he had been more interested in his weapons training and tramping around with the Warriors Three to pay much attention to his magical studies, and he understood even less when it was magic from a creature like Janus.

But by magic or might, if this Alexander Harris was his son, then he had gained a most staunch protector. Thor would not let one of his blood reside in such an environment if he could in any way stop it. Birthing a heir had been in his future, if only to secure the throne, and he had always known that. But it had never been a concept that he had to face, just an abstract idea for after he found a suitable bride.

"I would watch the mouth, buddy. Point Break over there is liable to lay the hammer down if you keep up the insults" Tony gave a piratical grin, but didn't mention what he was likely to do.

That was almost scarier.

"He's my son!" Harris screamed again, glaring at everyone around him while his wife huddled closer to the back of the couch, staying silent as large tears ran down her face. She had done nothing but cry since they arrived at her residence, clearly unable to handle what was going on around her.

Thor gripped Mjolnir tighter, adding another mark in the mortals long list of mistakes, and the skies responded to his anger, lightening flashing violently again. "Not anymore, mortal. By Odin, I will leave no child here to suffer your presence."

The doorknob turned, and every warrior in the room trained weapons on the door, tense as they waited for whatever decided to step through the entrance. Something about this town had everyone on edge, Thor himself hadn't felt anything like it since his last visit to Hel's realm.

A flash of lightning illuminated the figure standing in the doorway, taking two shaking steps inside the house before he caught sight of all the people occupying the normally empty room. Brown eyes grew wide, a dark bruise coloring pale skin, and he pressed an arm closer to his left side.

'Bruised ribs, at least one broken. Bruises. Gashes.' Thor categorized every injury he could see with a warrior's eye in the few seconds it took him to cross the room, arms out and ready to catch the boy as he wilted. He knew that the child would not be able to stand by will alone for much longer.

"I don't think," the boy coughed violently as Thor lifted him up, frowning at how light he was. An Asgardian of his age, even with only one Asgardian sire, should be much more hale than he was. "I made curfew."

It was an inane sentence, and produced more coughing and gasps of pain, the boy crying out as the god shifted him to a more comfortable position as he lifted him in the air, before clutching him close to his chest.

"Peace Godling, be at peace," it was a soothing rumble, as instinctual to Thor as controlling the lightning was, and the boy tried to crack open bloodied and blackened eyes to look at him but was forced to close them as the pain grew to unbearable levels. "Rest. No more harm shall come to you. Rest."

Thor waited for the child to pass into unconsciousness, drinking in his features with eager eyes, committing ever part of him to memory, even as concern (fear) flooded his brain. The connection between the two of them had been obvious as soon as he touched the other's skin, a bond he only shared with his own father springing to life between them and humming with strength.

His son. This was his son. Loki had not lied, he had a child.

A son, a strong son who refused to break over what life gave him.

A son he could be proud of, no matter how he came about.


End file.
